Guanyinshan- 觀音山

I realized it on the train towards Taipei.  Fishing around for my cell, I realized something was off.  Frantically I waggled around my fingers.  No, it definitely wasn't there.  A familiar sinking feeling blossomed in the middle of my chest and started to work its way down towards my gut.  It was the same feeling I'd had when I knew, with no small amount of certainty, that I'd lost my cellphone in the taxi.

I'd left my camera at home.

How is that even possible?!  I'd checked to see if my camera had a full battery before I left- how I could I then forget to put it in my pocket?  Might as well leave the keys in the door...fuck.

I was so pissed at myself I almost considered turning back.  And then realized how ridiculous that thought was.  My blog would survive one entry without my own photos, and slavish thoughts towards a piece of cyberspace would not be tolerated.  It'd be a chance to soak things in without having to dig my camera out every few steps- a nice change.  I would hearken back to the time of adventurers like Marco Polo, who transmitted their tales of foreign locales without the aid of digital photography...and who often lacked the evidence to back their exaggerated claims or fabricated stories.

The words I had uttered to Brian in Danshui last week were not spoken lightly- gazing out across the water at the mountain that dominated our vision.

"I don't know what the hell mountain that is.  But I'm going to climb it."

And as I sat around on the train ride back from Wulai, a line my mom likes to drop popped into my head: "Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?" always delivered with a chiding irony.  It was decided; the unknown mountain would wait no longer.  The day of our climb would be tomorrow then.  We would scale the figure of Guanyin lying in repose across the shore, ascend her verdant slopes, and gaze out across the water beyond Danshui to the northern coast.  It would be glorious.

And it was.

We met up outside the Luzhou MRT station and waited around for an hour for the Orange 20 to haul our asses partway up the mountain.  The guide I'd read suggested we take the bus to the last stop (Ling Yun Temple) and climb the rest of the way up the trail.  Well, I started to get worried that most of the hike would get taken out of the equation when we passed markers for the trail, so we flipped a coin...and it told us we were sitting tight until the last stop.  As we wound up the mountain road I committed unspeakable blasphemy- I disobeyed the coin.  The next stop we alighted in Guanyin Village, and it's a good thing we did, because that coincided almost directly with the temple stop the guide suggested (somehow the bus system has changed since).  Had we rode all the way to the last stop we would've gone directly to the visitor center, a road much well-traveled, and from there barely a hike at all to the top.  Hah!  Screw you coin!

 We started up some steps, and despite the awesome view we envisioned, it looked like the hiking was going to be standard Taiwan fare- climbing up flights of stairs...not really what one would consider hiking.  Before long, however, I noticed to one side of the trail a bunch of ropes strung up between trunks, leading up a much steeper slope than our paved walkway.  It looked reminiscent of Sifenwei.

I look pretty unimpressed right here.  Don't believe my expression.  People in high school always said I looked high too and they were wrong.  No, really.  They were wrong.

Yeah, things are getting more interesting now...

Forging ahead

Needless to say, we ditched the manicured path and started scrambling over moss-covered rocks and gnarled roots.  In some parts the ropes proved helpful; other times, they were tactfully ignored.  We tasted our first vistas at the top of Jian Shan and Divination Peak, the trail becoming steeper, reaching through the jungle and breaking forth with a stunning view of the valley before us, the Danshui River, and the Datun Mountain Range before us.

Yes, we will make a habit of this. 

Up near the top of one peak we found a recreational area in use by a group of older hikers.  Noticing the pots and cookware laid out, I inquired if this was a restaurant.  They laughed and invited us to tuck in to their leftovers.  Well, more accurately two of the guys asked us to sit down for a drink and there happened to be food too.  I don't know why all these old guys think drinking and hiking go together.  Probably because they're mostly retired and living the good life.  One of the guys brings out a bottle of Johnny Walker Green Label that stares at me enticingly before I succumb to one pour.  Of the guys we're talking to, one's retired and the rest are, in their words "bosses" (this word in English).  And every weekend they come out here, hike a mountain, then get boozed up and enjoy a delicious repast of beef shank, fried fish, pig trotters and mountain greens.  Living the good life indeed.

Thanks for the Green Label and camaraderie!

After a good half-hour we made our farewells, promised to come see them again, and headed off towards Ying Han Peak, the highest peak and our ultimate destination.  On the way we saw a semi-fenced in structure, what looked to be an observation tower.  The weeds around it were overgrown and the tower looked disused, but the gate opened easily to the touch-as good a welcome as any!

We walked into the main structure and discovered that the staircase was locked by a tall metal door.  This we easily circumvented by grabbing hold of the metal fence on the second floor and pulling ourselves up.  I have a thing with heights in non-enclosed spaces so I asked Brian how we were going to get down?

"Eh, we'll deal with that when we have to go back down."

I went down the stairs and examined the lock for the metal door.  Simple latch lock.  Opening it, I pushed the door.  I felt like a 1st-lvl rogue opening his first chest.  Suck that, no climbing down for us now!  But seriously, what was this place?  Gate open, no 'trespassing prohibited' signs posted up, yet this odd structure was obviously abandoned and the steps up to the top were locked off.  It's not like we had to do some hunting to find this place, it lay right off to the side of the trail.  What purpose had it served before?  Why wasn't it being pressed into service as a scenic viewpoint?

Looking out from the mesh-link green fence we could see a spoiler of what the view at the top of the tower would be.  Up on the third floor we saw there were a series of green girders connecting together to form a raised square above us.  We got on top, green dust sticking to our asses and looked out before us.  It was a magnificent sight...one blessedly free of haze.  Taipei stretched out towards our left, 101 jutting phallus-like between the shapely green mounds behind it.  To the left we could see out past Danshui to the NW coast as it looped back around towards the east, while the peaks of the Datun Range ahead were swallowed up in a blanket-like mist.  Behind us, we could see down all the way to the docks at Bali.  If at any moment during the hike I most regretted leaving my camera at home, this was it.  Positioning ourselves strategically around the top, we were able to get some great pictures with Brian's i-Phone.

Christo Redentor makes an appearance over Taipei.

Trying not to look like a scared little girl.

When some people called out to us, I wondered if we might in fact be trespassing.  We lingered a moment longer before taking the steps down.  I scooped my backpack off the ground where I'd left it and we left this enigma behind us.  The only two people we encountered around the area, hikers like ourselves, smiled at us.  Nope, no one really did care about this place.  And they were missing out.

From this point, it was back to paved steps and many more visitors.  One of the good things about Taiwan is sometimes people can't stare at you anymore than they already are, so we hauled ass up the stairs, past the sauntering multitudes.  This bragtastic stunt definitely earned us some grit points.  A brief interlude at an official viewpoint, complete with facilities and pavilion, but not really outshining our own private retreat, and we were shuffling down more stairs towards the visitor center.

The original plan had been to walk from Yinhan Peak to the Bali ferry, then take the boat across from Danshui.  Well, we'd miss the fork that was supposed to lead us down in that direction.  The woman behind the desk, eager to help us out, pointed out the lay of the land, and told us that the trails towards the wharf from Guanyinshan weren't really well-marked...awesome.  It would be over an hour to walk along the road to get to the ferry, and by that time we both knew we'd be wiped out after the ferry ride.  So we quickly caught the bus down and headed towards Semen.  I mean Ximen.  Iron Man 3 awaited.  And blessed seats.